Dreams Don't Lie

Our dreams are young
And tender like a rose bud,
Sensitive as the skin on a baby's butt.
Our imagination keen as a youngster's,
A solid refuge in disasters,
A hope that sticks like plaster.
Our dreams sculpt us
And sharpen our focus.
We must shelter its shoots
Build ridges to protect its roots.
We must tend our threatened garden
Raise a hedge before it is trodden.
Budding dreams
Are rare dreams,
They're hard to come by
Tho in time all things die,
True dreams do not lie.

Akpan